A Bride for Nekron: A Story of Fire and Ice
by Igrayne01
Summary: The evil ice lord, Nekron, and his mother, Juliana, seek to conquer the known world by sending giant glaciers rumbling southward. Firekeep's Princess Teegra is abducted in the hopes that Nekron might sire an heir with her.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are from a pretty obscure animated movie made in 1983 called **_**Fire and Ice**_** and are the property of Ralph Bakshi and Frank Frazetta.**

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I.

The modest quarters that sat atop the highest tower in Firekeep's palace overlooked a formidable range of active volcanoes around which the city had been built. Although heavily fortified by virtue of its geography, the city had its weak points structurally. And it was on nights like these, when she could hear rumbles of thunder from deep in the earth's bowels, that Princess Teegra's mind exhausted itself with thoughts of the siege that surely awaited them on the other side of the valley. The ice lord Nekron, who had used his mastery of the black arts and his arcane mental powers to crush every last pocket of resistance that stood in his way, was pushing huge glaciers ever southward in his conquest for power. And there was no doubt in her mind that Firekeep stood in danger of decimation should they not acquiesce to his demands.

What exactly those were remained to be seen, as Nekron had neither been seen nor heard from in excess of a week. He should have made his presence known by now. Things were almost _too quiet_ for her liking.

Perhaps he was somewhere plotting something. Perhaps even now his sub-human minions were out there, preparing to lay siege to the castle. Perhaps her father and brother were unaware.

"Nekron..."

_Nekron_. His very name invoked terror in the hearts of people everywhere. Although she had never seen him firsthand, she had heard tell stories of his brutality toward those he opposed, his utter lack of concern for all human life. The very evil he represented was reflected in his looks, too; they said his skin was pale as a corpse and his hair was white as snow. Everything about his control of the fortress of Icepeak seemed to be appropriate, taking all this into consideration.

A chill ran involuntarily down her spine. Pulling the gauzy, impractical purple robe closer around her shoulders, she turned and entered the chamber where her father stood by the fire, staring pensively into the embers that spilled out on the cobblestone floor. His eyes flickered back and forth, following the brisk movements of the flames as they spat and hissed, dropping little sparks. She hadn't seen her father in such a state for a very long time, since well before her mother had died; surely something must have happened to have him so on edge?

"Are you well, Father?"

She crossed the room in two giant strides, drawing nearer the hearth, where the fire illuminated her exceedingly pale, almost translucent, skin. Her wavy mane of dark hair cascaded over both shoulders like a waterfall, each lustrous strand set aflame in the glow. She smiled as she came before her father, lifting both hands to his cheeks to reach up on her tip-toes and kiss him briefly. He was a little older now, balding, and a little more round in the belly, but still the same loving and benevolent man she had known him to be her entire life. It was no wonder the people of Firekeep loved him so.

"Yes, my dear daughter," he replied, stroking thoughtfully through his silver-tinged beard. "But the volcanoes are restless. They sing of death, and destruction, and of things to come."

"I know. They've been that way for many moons now. Do you think it's an omen sent by the gods, warning us of things to come?"

"Yes, and it can mean only one thing: Lord Nekron is very near."

"We should ready the Dragonhawks," Teegra advised. "An invasion, right now, would be catastrophic; should the worst come to pass, we must be prepared for it."

But Jarol's courage seemed to have failed and his resolve turned to water. Was that defeat she saw etched in his features? Was this the same proud man who had single-handedly subdued an entire heard of sub-humans in his youth, armed with only a spear and shield? It seemed impossible now to reconcile that image with the man standing before her, looking-for all intents and purposes-very much the coward.

A fatigued hand reached out and stroked the side of her face.

"I am an old man. I am weary of battle. I have no desire to grasp after fame and glory, as I did in my youth. My sole desire is to protect my people. This is the charge given to me when I was crowned. Not to go wandering off, seeking fights and endangering my people with foolhardy actions..."

"You want to protect them, Father? Then do as I say," Teegra insisted, her tone growing more impatient as her green eyes took on a stubborn cast. "Lord Nekron has already made his intentions very clear: he seeks domination, and nothing else. Is it better for us to sit back and wait for him to take what he wants, or to put up an honest fight?"

"She's right, you know," a masculine voice, flavored with a lilting accent, said from across the room. There stood her brother Taro, one hand grasping his sheathed weapon, his woolly hair hanging in long strings about his tanned face. Were it not for his sometimes unkempt appearance, Teegra would have considered him handsome, but he refused to bathe as frequently as she and her father would have liked. Jarol often tried to send his royal clothiers to garb him in vestments that befit his stature, beautiful ermine and crimson silks imported from the east and sheepskin boots. Taro, ever the practical sort, routinely refused his father's charity.

"Something must be done, and fast. They are here."

"What do you mean, 'they are here'?" Jarol started, moving so swiftly that he almost toppled his voluptuous daughter over. Teegra spun to meet her brother's dark eyes, and in them she recognized fear.

"Lord Nekron has sent a delegation. His envoys request an audience with you, Father."

"This is most unusual," Jarol said. "He wishes to talk?"

"I am guessing his latest conquest in the northern villages has exhausted his resources," Taro said with a mixture of excitement and impatience. "This _might_ be our one chance to reason with him. If he is willing to talk, then we must listen and see what he has to say. But if he has other plans..."

Jarol turned toward his daughter, looking dazed at this good news.

"There, you see? It is never good to act on impulse, as this has clearly proven."

Teegra bit her lip so hard it broke the skin, and she could taste blood in her mouth. Although all vestiges of his prior anxiety seemed to have dissipated, she now feared for their safety.

"May I accompany you and Taro to this audience? I want to be _with_ you when you meet Nekron's men."

A heavy hand landed on one of her slim shoulders almost reassuringly.

"You'll serve your people better here with your studies, my daughter. Give me your love."

She hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek, although inwardly she was screaming her disapproval.

"You have it always, Father."

With that, Jarol and Taro exited the room, their arms and armor clanging down the hall. She watched as the great homespun cloak that hung from her father's massive shoulders trailed down the black hall into darkness, and then shut the door.

Thus began the waiting, the unbearable few moments of silence before she was to know Nekron's true plans for Firekeep. What would become of her beloved city once the sub-humans overtook it? Would the stony towers stand tall against the onslaught? Or would they fall and crumble beneath the weight of his rebellion? She shuddered to think of it.

There was a sudden knock on the door that jolted her out of her reverie. The voice on the other side was soft and respectful.

"My lady, may I come in?"

"Of course, Ary'thilia," she said, admitting the beautiful dark-skinned tutor into the room. Her black panther, Shaitan, stalked into view a moment later, shoulders undulating as he prowled, his heavy paws lifting upon stone. He found a spot beside the princess on cushions of blue and gold wool and hunkered down for a long, restful nap. Ary'thilia produced a rolled-up parchment from within her white garments and lifted her head to smile at Teegra.

"Your father sent me to resume your studies."

"Of course he did," Teegra said, her voice and tone sounding altogether too harsh. "He wishes to banish me to my quarters like a rotten child."

"He worries for your safety, my lady," the woman said softly, her skin a beautiful, smooth shade of caramel brown. "As do we all."

"Well, you needn't worry about me; I can take care of myself as well as any man."

She mimicked the swooping motions of a sword in the air, thrashing about from side to side to prove her point.

"Your father does not believe as you do. He believes knowledge-and diplomacy-is a much more powerful weapon for you to wield."

"And what could I possibly do with it? _Talk_ my enemies to death?"

"No, my lady, but I've seen firsthand that you are a shrewd manipulator. With the right training, you could be made into a powerful diplomat-one who can negotiate treaties and even prevent whole armies of men from fighting. So you see, not every weapon is a sword."

"I suppose not."

"The mind can be a powerful weapon. Just as Nekron uses his arcane mental powers for evil, so too can you use yours for good," she continued. "You just have to apply yourself."

"Well, are you going to get to that lesson? Or is this part of it?"

Ary'thilia frowned. Teegra stifled a yawn and flopped onto a nearby divan, propping up a few cushions underneath her stomach as her tutor began what was to be yet another one of her long, rambling lectures. As her sleep-inducing voice droned on without any sign of stopping, the princess sighed loudly to get the point across.

"All matter in our world is from the natural bases, which are earth, air, fire and water. The four elements from which all things are created."

She stretched her limbs out on the divan as best she could, the material of her purple bikini and matching robes straining against her ample, fulsome flesh. For all its width, the divan was not long enough, so Teegra lay across it sideways, pulling her knees up to her stomach as she grew more bored with each passing moment. She yearned to know what was taking place in the chamber below them, where the three envoys were due to greet her father and brother. Even now, she could imagine their whispered voices in her head, arguing back and forth about the fate of their kingdom. Suddenly, the subject matter at hand seemed very distant to her.

She had finally reached her breaking point, and it came sooner than she had expected.

"Oh, Ary'thilia, how can you talk about elements when the war draws nearer to us every hour?"

The parchment fell to the tutor's lap with a loud smacking sound, as though Ary'thilia had lost all patience with her young student, though nothing could be further from the truth. No matter what Teegra's antics, the woman endured her distinterest in her lessons like a saint. If there was an award to be had for tenacity, it certainly belonged to her.

"Princess Teegra, we all have our duty," she explained at length. "Your father's duty is to be kind and lead. Your brother's duty is to soldier. And your duty is to learn. Which you seem to be doing quite a poor job of right now..."

"I _think_ what you mean is that my duty is to stay shut up while all the men do the fighting and share all the glory," Teegra corrected her somewhat vengefully, her tone turning from sweet and innocent to biting in a fraction of an instant. "We think that stinks. Don't we, Shaitan?"

The large panther, roused from a deep sleep by the sound of her voice, voiced his disapproval the only way he could: with a bellowing growl. Teegra leaned forward and scratched him behind the ears; he willfully submitted to the caress before returning to sleep once again.

"At least try to feign the least bit of interest in what I'm teaching you just this once," the tutor asked. "After all, I must have _something_ to put in my reports for your father. Or do you seek my dismissal?"

"You know I don't. Oh, very well. You've made your point. Continue," she said with an imperious wave of the hand, relaxing back against the divan as her tutor's voice faded out of her attention and into silence. She could no longer fight the fatigue threatening to overtake her, so she closed her heavy lids and sank into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was to be the only bit of proper sleep she would have over the next few days...


	2. Chapter 2

II.

The throne room of Firekeep looked out upon a cavernous chamber. A low fire lit the room with orange-colored shadows, the only illumination, elegant pillars flanking the immense rocky throne against the far wall, where King Jarol sat. To either side of him hung the personal insignia of the country's ruling house, a grizzly bear locked in a treacherous grip with a serpent by teeth and claws. The huge, hulking form of Taro, his behemoth of a son, stood alert, one hand on the hilt of his sword, as they greeted the assembled delegation of minions sent by Nekron.

The three hooded figures loomed out from gaping black backgrounds, their eyes yellow within the shadows of their cowls. The king had difficulty discerning whether or not they were, in fact, human; they had affected a perfect manner of speaking, but they looked to be of a much baser stock than the men who normally treaded through these halls. Despite their off-putting looks, he was ready and willing to hear what they had to offer. If nothing else, his long years of kingship had engendered within him the dubious gift of patience.

The first minion, the taller of the three, approached the king with cautious steps, stopping only to drop to one knee before him in supplication. The king accepted this show of courtesy and bid him rise while the other two followed suit. After they had made their obeisance, the first minion handed him the parchment he had been holding.

Suspiciously, the king asked, "What does it say?"

"My lord Nekron wishes for you to see it with your own eyes."

"What are you playing at?"

"My lord Nekron says—"

"_Read it_," he commanded. There was no mistaking the note of finality in his voice. The minion knew he would not ask again. Clearing his throat, he unrolled the long piece of parchment with spindly fingers and allowed his eyes to skim over the carefully penned writings given to him by his mistress, Juliana.

"_King Jarol, here within find written our offer. If you peacefully surrender and agree to throw down arms against the armies of the north, Lord Nekron, the wise and benevolent sovereign of Icepeak, will cease the destruction of your kingdom and grant you immunity from the consequences of your actions…_"

But before he had finished, a giant arm swung toward him, cutting the air with remarkable speed. In a second, the king had cast aside the parchment from the minion's hands. It clattered to the ground and rolled away before the curious creature had a chance to retrieve it.

"This is your message of peace?" the king's voice boomed like a deafening drum. For a few moments, all was silent. "A demand for our _total_ and _unconditional_ surrender? Nekron must think me mad—no, a complete _fool_—to ever agree to such a proposition!"

"We call it an offer of alliance, your majesty," the minion explained. "A joining, if you will, of our two kingdoms. With this alliance, we will be unstoppable."

"That is _exactly_ the kind of talk that frightens me," the king added. "Lord Nekron seeks nothing but conquest and personal power. This… _offer_ is merely a polite request for us to acquiesce to his demands now—or suffer the consequences later. It's a charade. And if you ask me, it's a worthless one at that."

The thin, wan line that constituted the creature's mouth pulled back into a disdainful sneer.

"My king, don't insult his highness. Certainly, he doesn't insult you or your…" the creature glanced sidelong at the young prince, "…lackeys."

"This _entire visit_ has been an insult," Taro sneered, scarcely able to contain himself any longer.

"My lord Nekron's offer is…"

"_To hell_ with Nekron and his offer!" the young prince bellowed, his eyes blazing with furious intensity. "We are free men, not slaves."

The wise king clasped a hand to his son's shoulder in a show of solidarity. With an affectionate squeeze, he released it. Like an erring dog called to heel, Taro stood down, his chest pumping with short, swift breaths as he struggled to contain his anger. His little outburst aside, he had made a point, one the king was not quick to dismiss.

"My son Taro speaks more with his heart than with his head, but he speaks for all of us. There can be no alliance. Not when Nekron seeks blind subservience. We are a proud people, and if need be, we will fight you to the death for the blessed right to live and breathe as we please."

"Please… be reasonable. Lord Nekron is very graciously allowing you an opportunity to correct your mistakes."

"I have made my decision."

The corner of the minion's lips lifted in a sinister smile, and his eyes blazed golden, the fires from the nearby volcanoes illuminating the inhuman irises properly for the first time. The face was far more twisted than Jarol had ever expected, the sharp contours accented by giant, dilated pupils and a bird-like beak.

"Perhaps… you will soon change your mind."

The words sent an involuntary chill down the king's spine.

* * *

It was some time after midnight when Teegra awoke, and the sound of scratching—was that nails upon stone?—could be heard from far away. She drowsily pushed herself to a sitting position, careful not to wake the sleeping panther beside the divan, and struggled to locate the source of the noise. There was a sudden scrabbling of toes against the balcony sill, and Shaitan immediately roused, his ears flattening against his head as a low, guttural growl emitted from his throat. Nearby, Ary'thilia slept, apparently a victim of her own boring lessons.

"What is it?" the young princess purred in hushed tones. The huge cat's fur bristled as it positioned itself around her protectively. In that instant, she knew she was in trouble. Her eyes focused on the open window, where nothing but the gossamer drapes blew. As she watched with anticipation, a knife came hurtling through the window at breakneck speed, landing square in the breast of Shaitan.

She let out a blood-curdling scream.

The animal slumped to the ground as the screams of his mistress fluttered all around him. One by one, Nekron's sub-human minions hurtled through the open window as though in slow motion. Clothed in loincloths that left very little to the imagination, these ape-like creatures could scarcely be considered highly evolved life-forms. Their flattened faces, heavy brow ridges, and protruding jawlines paid homage to their decidedly simian origins, and the primitive topknot style they wore their hair lended them a brutish appearance.

At the princess' scream, Ary'thilia awoke from her own slumber. She soon realized what had happened. Her caramel skin glistened with beads of sweat as she struggled to make it to the creatures before they had negotiated the length of the room. Her sacred charge was to protect the princess with her life—to the death, if need be. Challenged to action, the petite woman flung herself into their path headlong, prepared to defend the princess. But Ary'thilia's strength was not evenly matched; the first of the creatures flung her aside as though she was no more than a plaything. Her face collided with the wall long before her body slumped over.

Out of self-preservation, Teegra had grown willful and defiant. First she kicked at her oppressors, then, when it was clear they had her cornered, she used her fists to pummel any ounce of flesh she saw. An arm came swooping down to ensnare her, lifting her, screaming, over one equally sinewy shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, she was being lifted up and away from her chambers, away from the death and destruction that had fallen her beloved companions.

Away from her father and Taro…

Only the gods knew where she was now headed.

She opened her mouth and let out one last fruitless cry.

* * *

The scream echoed throughout the bowels of the underground chamber, piercing King Jarol's ears. With alarm, he pushed himself to his feet and his dark eyes almost bulged from their sockets.

"Teegra!" the king said desperately. "What, in the name of the gods, have you done with my daughter?"

"She is safe, I can assure you," the smirking figure said. "There is no need to worry. In fact, she will be accorded the highest honor. She is to be a bride for Lord Nekron. She will bear his sons and rule alongside him in his kingdom of Icepeak."

"Not my daughter—no! You'll pay for this, you filthy cur!"

"Guards!" Taro cried, flinging aside the minion as he attempted to retrieve his sword from its sheath. The blade sprung free with a torturous cry as Taro's guards surrounded him and advanced upon the three hooded figures. As the figures quickly uncloaked themselves, Taro made a lunge toward his opponents, desperate to impale them. As their swords came together in thrust and parry—all too quick for the eye to follow—Taro fought desperately against the bone-chilling vibrations each strike sent through his body.

The minion's strength was admirable, he would give him that; just when he felt as though he was about to be overpowered, Taro summoned up the strength to force him backward. With both hands grasped about the hilt, he thrust the blade clean through the figure's middle. He had no time to wait for his opponent to die before he was set upon again by a second enemy. His guards had cornered the third and seemed to be faring well enough on their own.

The blade hissed as the creature hacked at his legs, forcing Taro to somersault in the air in order to avoid being cleaved. He doubled back and was able to strike the weapon from the creature's iron grip, sending it hurtling through the air and toward a separate wall of the chamber. Seconds more and he had dispatched the second creature with a killing blow. He then ran over to help the rest of the soldiers fighting in the company of the king. The unlucky creature found himself on the receiving end of a brief but brutal fight. He crumpled into a heap beside his fallen comrades.

Taro sheathed his sword; his brothers-in-arms followed his example.

"Make for the glacier!" he called. "Man the dragonhawks! Hurry! Hurry!"

The company of men, clad in majestic gold winged helmets, ran full steam ahead down the great chasms that led through the city, Taro bouncing along excitedly in their wake, energized by the battle.

Jarol frowned. So it had come, at last, to this. It seemed only a few short hours ago when his beloved daughter Teegra had been advising him of that very thing; stupidly, he had ignored her. Perhaps he could have avoided this, preempted Nekron. Now, instead, she would pay the price of his foolishness.

He just hoped they were not too late to save her.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

A raging blizzard poured down upon the kingdom of Icepeak, blanketing the palatial halls of the ice castle in a fine layer of crystalline snow. As Juliana stared out into the blustery day from her perch beside the royal palace's throne, she felt a great deal of comfort being inside. Despite her natural affinity for the cold air and the blizzard-like conditions of her kingdom, she was more content to be in the warmth of the large palace.

The palace had been constructed of jagged sheets of sheer ice that rose like shards of sharp metal toward the sky. Shifting colors of rose and blue shone as the sun struck the walls and reflected off on wildly divergent tangents. The building had been constructed like a bunker, but architecturally it was much more extravagant, with lavish designs running the length of the structure from end to end. Shadows slid across the thin ice walls as the sun rose over the eastern sky.

Juliana watched the dawning of another day with anticipation. Today would be the day her sub-human minions would bring forth her son's bride. She had prepared for Teegra's arrival with much pomp and ceremony; many of the servants had been alerted to their tasks and were even now baking a sumptuous feast to celebrate their master's impending nuptials. Foods of every sort and taste awaited them, and they all promised to be unforgettably delicious.

Her eyes scanned the horizon as the sun's brilliance broke through the cloud of snow and dazzled her for a moment, forcing her to look away. It was still early and there was much to be done.

She turned and entered her son's chambers, where he slept fitfully in the throes of a dream, as evidenced by his quiet breathing. He was wrapped in fur coverlets to stave off the bitter cold, and the large canopied bed had been curtained against draughts. Normally, he would have been awake at this hour, but his last conquest had been so taxing that Juliana decided he needed his rest.

Turning, she made as though to exit, but her movements caused him to stir. Nekron's pale blue eyes flitted open and came into focus upon her form, standing rigid in the doorway. She turned and smiled, her long black ponytail cascading down her back.

"Mother? Is that you?"

"Rest, my son; it will do you good," she said, using one hand to grasp his lean shoulder and toss him back toward the bed. He cast aside her hand and swung up to a sitting position, pushing aside the blanket. For a few moments he blinked at a spot in the distance. His wild white hair hung in mussed, clumped strands around his pale, luminescent blue skin. His slender, wiry frame and effeminate manner made him doubly menacing. There was no mistaking the obvious family resemblance.

"No, Mother; I've slept enough." He shook his head, willing the blurring behind his eyes to vanish. "It is time for me to wake."

Juliana attempted to hand him a little gilded mirror that she had swiped from the table beside the bed, but he refused to accept it. He cast the mirror aside as though her presence was not much more than an intrusion. It was clear he wasn't about to bother with his appearance when there were much more pressing things on his mind.

"You've not yet regained your strength, your power. You are going to need it if ever you are to overtake the other kingdoms."

"A new assignment?" he queried with a sneer. "And here I thought I had not finished the last one you gave me."

Juliana tentatively moved to a sitting position at the foot of the bed, her hands patting his feet fondly as she looked at him with complete and utter adoration. He truly was, in every sense of the word, his mother's son.

"It is over, and you have done well, my son. The north village has fallen. We have won."

He nodded his head in her direction, remembering for the first time since waking the chain of events that had led him to this deep sleep.

"I remember now. The fight, it completely sapped my strength. I felt weak, powerless. I didn't like it…"

She leaned forward and stroked a hand through his white mane, brushing the hair back from his face. He had the same aristocratic nose and sharply sculpted cheekbones that were the legacy of her ancestors. The same hair, skin tone, and cool, aloof manner. The rest, unfortunately, belonged to the man whose arms she had spent a pleasure-filled night in nearly twenty years before.

She swallowed thickly and righted her thoughts before they had the chance to betray her. Nekron seemed not to have noticed the reverie that had momentarily overtaken her, so she merely continued speaking.

"You fell under a spell once the village had been decimated. I had Erokk carry you to your chambers so you could get your rest."

He nodded.

"I want to thank you, Mother. Without your help, I—"

"There is no need to thank me. Your work is not yet done." With a pause, she added, "The Great Plain is all that stands between ourselves and _Firekeep_."

"That is a long distance," he said tiredly at the thought of the fight that awaited them.

"A distance we may not have to travel, my sweet," she said, her hand landing under his chin as she brought it sharply upright so that his eyes were level with hers. Staring deeply into those pale eyes, ringed around by veins of threaded gold, she found herself smiling involuntarily.

"What do you mean, Mother?"

"While you slept, I sent our envoys to King Jarol with our new demands."

A derisive snort.

"He will not submit."

"Perhaps…"

One pale brow arched in speculative amusement. His voice was almost gleeful as he said, "What have you done, Mother? You look awfully pleased with yourself."

"I am always pleased with myself when I've done a good job."

"You're being disingenuous," he stated. "Come now, we both know it's more than that."

"Indeed," she said, her thin red lips flattening into a line.

"So tell me what, specifically, it is you find so amusing."

"Patience, my son; I do not want to spoil the surprise."

"You know I don't like surprises," Nekron almost growled, his hot breath spilling out upon her.

"Trust me; you'll like this one. Have a little faith in your mother, dear boy."

Cradling his face in both hands, she pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. Nekron suffered the embrace for a moment longer before standing and donning his velvety purple robe. Juliana stood and helped him adjust his robe before buckling a sash at his waist.

"There. You are ready."

_You are the spitting image of your father_, she thought for a brief moment as she took in his elfin appearance. Sometimes it pained her to see the remaining traces of her shame, and other times she reveled in the life she had unwittingly helped to create. What a man he had become! He was a tool she could mold and use to manipulate the outside world. He was her _finest_ creation, and he would do her bidding in anything. Not because he feared her or revered her, but because he loved her.

Without a word, Nekron nodded to her, left his chambers, and headed for the throne room.

* * *

A flock of dragonhawks bearing armed riders glided the skies on huge, leathery wings as King Jarol and Taro watched from their high vantage point. Although it was nearing morning, the palest splinter of moon was still visible in the sky. Jarol's eyes fixed upon it as he gazed forlornly at the backs of the retreating riders. The bleating sound of the dragonhawks was faint with distance but still loud enough to wake the sleeping city. Below, the lights of the individual residences glowed like tiny embers in a quickly extinguishing fires; it would be morning soon and then the people would be up and going about their daily business. It pained Jarol to think they were unaware of the theft of their beloved princess.

Taro could sense his father's unease.

"The dragonhawks will find her, Father. They've got to."

It was an empty promise, but it still made him feel better to say the words. The king looked hardly reassured, however.

"The night's so dark."

"It will be morning soon."

"It will. But the jungle's so thick. A bird couldn't find its own nest."

Growing impatient, Taro asked, "Well, what do we do then, Father?"

"We wait," the old man replied resolutely, his eyes still fixed upon the same spot where he had been watching the dragonhawks and their riders.

"For Nekron's new demands?"

"_For his siege_."

"This is madness. I don't like sitting around not making myself useful."

Balling his hands into fists, Taro walked off, bristling with anger. For a long time, King Jarol remained staring at the sky, his face glistening with tears that had sprung, unbidden, to his eyes.

"May the gods watch over you, my daughter, and—I pray—return you safely to me."


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

Another spike of pain lanced through Teegra's head as she opened her eyes. A light so bright and blinding crept through the canopy of trees overhead and somewhere a bird let out a faint cry. The sounds of the forest were all around her, informing her she was far from her home.

She couldn't remember much of the night before except for the crude sensation of being dragged and then practically shoved the rest of the way down a long path in the inky darkness. Just before lapsing into unconsciousness, her thoughts had dwelled on her father and Taro and how terribly worried they must have been about her at that very minute. None of that mattered now; here she was, in a foreign land with a pack of primitive creatures as her only company. This place felt cold and hollow, so very different from the warmth of the keep she had called home.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, Teegra glanced about to slowly take in her surroundings. Trailing vines hung from slick, twisted limbs of trees on either side and smaller leafy strands spiraled around anything strong enough to hold them. Everything seemed to be growing on top of something else, oppressive in nature. The trees stood like columns in the mire. Stagnant expanses of water stretched beneath the tree limbs, enveloping the bushes clustered beneath. It would be difficult for them to find her in the forest once she was so deeply ensconced in it.

Unluckily for her, it was not difficult at all for the sub-humans to locate her. A tall, bestial behemoth came lumbering through one of the bushes and grabbed her impatiently by the arm, thrusting her ungently toward another clearing from which sounds and smells were emanating. When they broke through the brush, she saw a small campfire had been lit and several of the other creatures were hungrily gnawing on the bones of several of the forest's denizens. If this was breakfast, then she wanted to pass.

She wasn't given much of a choice. From the moment she arrived, all eyes were upon her. She supposed it was down to the rather revealing attire she now sported—attire which had been all but shredded the previous night by thorns and brambles. There was no use covering up, however; they had pretty much seen every luscious curve of her body by the time the arm came behind her back and shoved her into the middle of the clearing. Unbalanced by the force, she fell to her knees and immediately pushed herself to a sitting position, refusing to be humiliated by the rough treatment.

The nearby brute—the one with the coarse black topknot and pierced septum—ripped a chunk of meat from the meal he was scarfing down and thrust it in her direction. Pointing her nose haughtily in the air in defiance of the act, Teegra turned her face away. This seemed to annoy the sub-human. His face, which seemed more simian than human, contorted in anger and frustration. Again and again he tried to shove the piece of meat in her direction, to no avail. When it was clear they would get no response from the princess, they gave up trying and instead meandered toward the small brook that ran alongside the encampment.

Cupping their hands at the stream, the five sub-humans crouched and attempted to wash their pungent bodies, which smelled heavily of a mixture of human sweat and feces. Teegra was glad at least that she wouldn't have to suffer the offensive odor for very much longer. Her joy was short-lived, however, when one of the creatures reached down to splash her. The insistent look on his face seemed to indicate he wanted her to wash as well. She certainly wasn't going to give him _that_ satisfaction.

A quick kick to her knees sent her flying face-first ungracefully into the water. Her body wriggled in the murky water, just below the surface, as she felt the pain tear through her limbs. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to scream and have her father come running to her rescue. Futile though that thought might have been, she could not deny it.

Thinking quickly, Teegra dove deep and opened her eyes underwater. From above, she could see the sub-humans gazing down at her with what could only be described as looks of concern etched onto their monstrous faces. Despite the excruciating pain in her legs, she used them to propel her upward.

As she broke the surface of the water and swept her hair back, she sucked in the delicious air and gleaming sunlight. The fresh scent of pine trees was a tonic after being submerged underwater for so long. Looking around, she noticed a bevy of hungry and partially glazed over eyes staring back at her in mute appreciation as she continued to preen, well aware of her audience. Drawing tendrils of water up and over her arms, she began pretending to wash herself in order to capture their attention.

The sub-humans watched as though transfixed, their growls and murmurs indicative of their excitement. At the exact right moment, Teegra again drew a deep breath, sunk beneath the water, and began paddling as fast as her arms and legs would take her. A school of translucent fish glided past in swarms while a sea anemone stood poised on the river bed in all its profane glory. Undisturbed by her frantic swimming, the river's occupants went about their business without much of a care.

As Teegra continued to swim, her consciousness undulated, like ripples on a pond, floating slowly away from her. When she felt as though she could no longer hold her breath, she emerged from the water and wandered the shoreline onto dry land. A quick glance thrown to the left and right confirmed that she had put some distance between herself and the sub-humans. She wasted no time running. She ran despite the excruciating pain in her knees, the image of Firekeep vibrant in her mind. Even if she had to run the entire way there, she would make it home—or die trying.

The sounds of her pursuers surrounded her, assaulting her ears. The only thing she could possibly hide in was a narrow log up ahead. Thankfully, she was able to drop to her knees and contort her body into a seemingly impossible position in order to fit inside the narrow log. The birch chafed against her skin as she held still and waited. They were still some way in the distance, having been tripped and trapped for a while by the very trees and plants that had helped them on her way.

After a few minutes, the sub-humans beat the forest to the left and to the right. Deeper and deeper they went among the trees, until no sounds came from behind. When the sounds had at last receded, she breathed a sigh of relief. Safe, Teegra emerged from her hiding spot, fell on her knees, and wept. The cuts on her arms—from squirming into the hiding place—were deep and would need attention, and quickly. She was a battered and bruised sight, for sure!

_Father… _Her tired mind struggled to form a coherent thought._ Father, please help me!_


	5. Chapter 5

V.

Juliana concentrated all of her energy on gazing into the rose-colored shard of ice, wishing it were the scrying glass of a witch or priestess that could see what was happening far away. While the new moon still stood in the sky, she could lift the veil of the future and chance a glimpse at it—but without the proper tools, it would be difficult and would drain her temporarily of her power.

It was necessary, though. She had been having disturbing dreams and visions, and only by gazing into the future could she even begin to make sense of their meaning.

The pale light shimmered through the single open window in the room, illuminating her surroundings. Closing her eyes, Juliana undid the long golden cord on her gown and disrobed, laying it beside her. Now fully naked, she stepped into the moonlight and held the shard of ice aloft, her azure eyes catching the prisms of light thrown all about the room. At that moment, a surge of energy poured through her, and it felt as though every nerve ending in her body was on fire. A vagrant breeze rippled about her, bringing her body's temperature to an abrupt chill. And then there was silence.

She stood for a moment in meditation. Then the wind began to stir around her and the shard of ice—previously rosy and opaque—began to reflect confused images, flowing from one into another. Were they within her mind, or on the restless surface of the ice? She caught glimpses of battles, blurred by the wind. She saw a marriage, two houses joining to become one. She saw Teegra, robed and crowned, her belly swelling with child. She saw a son being ripped from her body and into the world. And then—most frighteningly of all—she saw her son, Nekron, battling a faceless man with an axe. She squinted her eyes and looked harder. Why could she not make out his face?

This vision was the most vivid out of all of them despite her inability to identify the man. His huge axe swung back and forth, nearly clipping Nekron every time. She saw a clash of steel and heard a vicious howl tear forth from her son's throat as he was felled by a lethal blow. She saw a bruised and dying child laid into a shallow grave beside him. And then she knew not whether the scream she heard tore from her own throat or from that of the vision's.

Dropping the ice shard, Juliana screamed as it splintered into tiny fragments that fell uselessly to the ground. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure it would break through her chest. Pressing a hand over the thumping, she held it there and allowed herself to catch her breath before she noticed the tall, lithe form standing in the doorway just over her shoulder. She spun about and saw Nekron standing there, one arm braced against the door frame, looking almost unamused. It was almost painful the way he looked at her, the way his intense blue eyes roamed over her naked form in the moonlight.

He was beginning to show interest, and that was why she'd had to send for Teegra. Not long now, he would be fathering sons of his own.

Recovering her robe, she shrugged it on and tied the cord to preserve her modesty. As she did so, Nekron continued to watch her.

"Are you all right, Mother? I heard screaming."

"It was nothing, my sweet son," she said, crossing the room to take his face in her hands and press a kiss to his forehead. "Please, return to bed."

"It didn't sound like nothing. Another dream? You've been having so many of them lately…"

There was nothing she could hide from him, it seemed. So instead of lying, she merely said, "Yes, but you needn't concern yourself with it."

His eyes strayed from her face. "You're shivering. You never shiver."

"Run along, my beautiful son," she said, her hands caressing his face once again as she ignored his keen observation of her current state. "And meet me in the throne room. I have something for you."

"Another surprise?"

"No, a gift. You'll like it—I promise."

Raising an inquisitive brow, Nekron turned and did as she commanded. Juliana followed him into the throne room and summoned one of her servants to her. The robed man re-emerged with a giant sword draped across his arms, which he presented to the ice prince. Nekron's eyes took in every detail of the sword, which had been forged with undulating, wave-shaped edges. The hilt was ornate, with ice-colored stones inlaid and a comfortable grip. Excited, Nekron swung it around a few times to test his newest gift. He was clearly pleased with it, as he smiled when the sword elicited a faint harmonic hum.

"For me?"

"And only you, my sweet," Juliana said. "It was forged in Firekeep by the very gods themselves. When you wield it, no man will be able to stand against you."

_Not even the faceless man with the axe._

The prince swung the sword about again, trying to get a feel for it. It made a satisfying slash as it went right through a large chunk of ice without displacing it in the slightest bit. The blade sizzled through the air, trailing sparks in its wake. Nekron then sheathed the sword and belted it to his waist, one hand resting on the hilt.

"I feel more powerful already," he consented. "As if I could conquer the world."

"All the same, you will need to learn how to use it," Juliana said, snapping her fingers. "I've already arranged for that."

At her instruction, a large man in furs and hide boots entered the palatial room, a giant broadsword resting over his left shoulder. His otherwise pleasant face was marred down the middle by the presence of an ugly, purple-looking scar—one he had gained in a fierce battle, no doubt. The man was twice Nekron's girth, but what the prince lacked in muscle he more than made up for in height.

"Yael'Tokk here is a master swordsman," Juliana intoned. "He will instruct you with your blade."

"My prince," the man said by way of greeting. Nekron nodded to him, remaining aloof despite the acknowledgment. "It would be my privilege to train you."

"Would it now? Or is that just something my mother instructed you to say to me in order to make me trust you?"

"Indeed it isn't, my lord."

After pausing for a moment, Nekron angrily replied, "Well? Shall we begin or are we to stand here all day?"

The swordsman engaged the young prince in combat. When it became clear he was holding back in order to give the prince the upper hand, Nekron barked a command for him to attack with full force. Then the real fighting began. The swordsman parried and thrusted in perfect rhythm with Nekron, their blades meeting with sparks of light.

Juliana watched, feeling nervous but satisfied that her son would be receiving instruction from a master swordsman. She couldn't keep her thoughts from lingering to the faceless man, however. In the vision, he had all but overpowered Nekron in the space of a few minutes. She wanted to be sure that would never to happen. If ever her heart's pride and joy were to succumb to death, she would have nothing more to live for.

The swords clashed and the duelers circled. Satisfied that Nekron was being properly challenged, Juliana rose from her seat and exited the room. The clang of steel upon steel still pierced the air even as she wandered down the long corridor and back into her chambers.

It had been far too long since she had heard from the sub-humans. It seemed a good enough time to check in with them and receive an update on their progress.

She kneeled and lit the embers of the fire that had previously burned in the center of the room. As the flames sprung to life, licking the cold air with ferocity, she focused her energy on calling out to her subordinates. Eyes clenched tightly shut, her mind swam with images. She could see the sub-humans crouched around a fire in the middle of a jungle somewhere. It was difficult to pinpoint a location, clouded as her vision was.

"What is your report? Have you done as I commanded? Have you captured the girl Teegra, Jarol's daughter?" she said to them once she was sure they noticed her.

A round of nervous howls and murmurs followed her question. The leader of the sub-humans waved his spear in her direction as though trying to explain himself.

"Where is she? Bring her forth so that I may see her."

At this command, the leader stared lamely back at his cronies for help and then bit out a reply that sounded like a bunch of gibberish and then the word "gone."

"Gone?" she queried, disbelieving what she was hearing. At their confirmation, she repeated, "GONE? Excaped? You filth-spawned scum!"

Anger welled within her veins. If she could have, she would have reached out and collectively slapped their ugly faces for having failed her. As if guessing this, the leader of the sub-humans released the spear he was holding and threw himself, prostrate, on the ground as though to beg forgiveness. Juliana was sickened by the sight of the creature humbling himself before her. She wanted nothing more than to pluck his eyeballs from his thick head and wear them on a necklace.

"What punishment does failure demand?" she screamed back at his image.

_Death_, a whispered voice said in reply.

With one arm, she reached across the distance and grabbed the sub-human by the neck, lifting him forcibly from the ground. He struggled against her iron grip, but she lifted him as though he weighed naught more than a blade of grass. On the other side of the distance, a white tendril of smoke curled around the creature's neck, tightening, cutting off his air supply with a sickening crack. The sub-human fell limply to the ground, released by the white smoke.

"Find the girl! Find her or his punishment shall be yours!" she screamed at one of the other sub-humans, a fellow with a black Mohawk and a saber tooth necklace dangling at his throat. He lowered his head in deference to her wishes and then rallied the others with a bestial cry, beating his chest: "Monga! Monga!"

As the vision faded from view, Juliana fell to the ground, her strength spent from the effort it took. She pinched the skin at the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, willing her headache to disappear. In time, she was able to push herself to her feet and walk back into the throne room, her heart still pounding.

As she watched her son swing his sword wildly about, she felt slightly encouraged. She knew this _Monga_ would not fail her and that Teegra would soon be here.

If her dream was any indication, Nekron was running out of time.


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

Teegra stumbled through the woods for what felt like hours until she found a worn path that led to a deserted cottage. Taking refuge inside the cottage, she quickly gathered moss and leaves to fashion a poultice for her wounds. Thankfully she had learned enough from watching her brother Tyro tend his men to mend her own wounds. The salve stung as she applied it to her skin, but it was the good kind of sting—the kind that meant the ingredients were working, albeit much more slowly than she had hoped.

She glanced about for the first time since entering the abode and took note of her surroundings. The pathetically tiny cottage was derelict and in a state of disrepair, with partially collapsed ceilings that left it exposed to sunlight and the elements. Despite its shabby appearance, however, it was still shelter—and it would do.

Tucking her legs under her and kneeling, perched on the squishy floor, Teegra took a deep breath. She'd scarcely had time to process everything that had happened to her in the intervening time. Part of her wanted to break down and cry, but the other part—the part of her that had her mother's strength—urged her to remain calm and wait for a rescue.

Curling up in a little ball, Teegra laid her head on the mossy ground and tried for some sleep. She would need her rest if those creatures were to return again and she was to outrun them. A much-needed nap would rejuvenate her for the long journey that lay ahead.

And oh, how very long it seemed…

Fluttering her bristly black eyelashes closed, Teegra sunk into a fitful slumber as a chorus of birdsong poured through the open walls of the cottage.

* * *

She awoke some time later to find the birds had stopped singing and the moon had risen to a point directly overhead, its full, high-beamed luster almost blotting out everything else. All that had been left in its wake was darkness and an eerie silence.

Blinking back the last vestiges of sleep, Teegra pushed herself to a sitting position as something caught her eye. Amid the surrounding obscurity, a towering figure stood motionless in the distance. Was he watching her? Panic gripped her. Momentarily robbed of breath, she found she could do nothing but sit and stare, much less attempt to run away.

For a long moment the figure retained its stance, then—after several more agonizing minutes of silence—it stepped forward, moving stealthily toward her, as though gliding over a well-oiled surface. She merely watched as he approached noiselessly.

As the figure drifted closer, she could at last make out his features properly. A strong, well-muscled warrior stood there before her in a black loincloth, his arms and athletic thighs thick with sinew. Long legs trailed down into sturdy armored boots. His face was partially obscured by a wolf mask, though his lips pursed together at the sight of her. She could have sworn his eyes glowed hungrily when he gazed at her. She suddenly worried for her safety.

"Keep away!" she cautioned him, uncertain of whether or not he spoke the common tongue. The sub-humans certainly hadn't, and this man had given her no reason to believe he could either.

"I mean you no harm," he said gently, and from the weary tone of his voice she could surmise he was middle-aged.

"If you're here to bring me back to those… those… _things_… I'll have you know I'll die first, mercenary!" she spat in defiance. He seemed unscathed and even—amused?—at her proclamation. The tips of his mouth curved slightly upward.

"Don't hunt for death, girl. It finds us all soon enough."

Teegra couldn't quite understand this man. Was he here to kill her, to rape her, to drag her kicking and screaming to Icepeak? What was it he wanted?

"I don't understand… who _are_ you?"

Without answering her, his eyes focused on her arm and noticed the crude poultice she had applied. Immediately, he began unloading his things—a small satchel and one very large two-handed axe—on the ground of the cottage.

"Come. You are hurt. You need rest and food."

"Food has been scarce," Teegra said, "And as for the rest… that was what I was trying for before you woke me up."

Without saying anything, the man reached toward her arm. Teegra immediately shouldered him away.

"Please, let me."

She didn't know why she should trust him, but his soft, silently pleading voice eventually convinced her to submit to his ministrations. His skilled hands removed the poultice, revealing a discolored and angry-looking wound.

"You should be changing your dressings every hour," he commented, scrounging around for more materials. When he located what he was looking for, he began the process of swabbing the wound and applying a new layer of salve. Although it hurt badly, he was remarkably gentle with her arm.

"Thank you," she said, grateful to have had some assistance. His company was almost pleasant in light of all that had happened recently.

"Tell me, what brings you out here?" the man said, getting comfortable on the floor of the cottage. He pulled one knee up to his chest, relaxing the opposite arm on the ground beside him.

_So he wasn't after me at all?_

"I was kidnapped, stolen from my home by Lord Nekron of Icepeak's dogs."

"To what purpose?"

Her shoulders raised in a nonchalant shrug. "I was never made aware of the purpose. I barely managed to escape with my life. It was only by the grace of the gods I found my way here unscathed."

"Ha. _Unscathed_… until the Ice Lord gets his hands on you. Once he does, you had better learn to live with pain that is much worse than that."

A slight nod of his head indicated the poultice on her arm. An involuntary shiver crept down the length of her spine as he said those words.

"How is it you know so much about Nekron?"

"I am hunting him."

"_Hunting_ him?"

"Him and his mother… that wolf bitch, Juliana."

Teegra relaxed a little, her long, dark mane providing cushioning against one of the walls of the dingy abode. Perhaps this man was the key to finding her way back to Firekeep. Perhaps he would be able to guide her home safely. The wheels in her head began turning feverishly.

"Then perhaps we have something in common."

"And that is?"

"You are hunting Nekron and Nekron's dogs are hunting me. What I want most in the world is to return home to my father, King Jarol, and I'm guessing what you want most in the world is to gain access to Icepeak. So why don't we put our heads together and…"

"No, it is too risky," the man barked.

"What other choice do we have?"

Gritting his teeth, the man looked away, angered.

"I will not use a woman as bait to lure Nekron on a wild chase. It would be dishonorable."

It wasn't a very good plan. Allowing herself to be captured in order to bring out the death of Nekron was not what she wanted to do, but there wasn't much else she could do now. It would be several days' walk from here to Firekeep, and any number of things could happen to her between now and then. Primordial creatures lurked in this forest, and she was sure she would prove to be a tantalizing snack to some of them should the opportunity present itself. She needed a guide as clearly experienced as this man was, but she was certain he wasn't about to abandon his cause when presented with gold and riches. If she had thought him prone to bribery, she certainly would have tried.

"Then we shall part ways in the morning. I will go on to Firekeep alone, and you to Icepeak."

"It is dangerous for you to wander the forest alone and unequipped."

"Then it seems we have a bit of a problem on our hands, doesn't it?" Teegra said, leaning forward in the moonlight. Her skin was so pale it seemed almost fluorescent, and her green eyes were wide with naiveté. "Either you take me with you and we form a plan or I will proceed on my own—and you will have that on your conscience. The choice is yours."

His lip curled in a sneer; if he could have, he would have objected. But it was clear this man was honor-bound to protect her—in whatever way he could. He was right; the forest was no place for a woman alone.

"Very well. But I don't like it… not one bit."

Teegra drew closer to him, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"Do you think you can locate them in the morning?"

"Yes. I can follow their tracks."

"Good. In the morning you will find them and I will allow myself to be captured. Then, when I am taken to Icepeak, you will follow after us and gain access to the palace. When you kill Nekron and his mother, we will return to Firekeep. And I'm sure my father, the king, will be happy to reward you."

"No reward can possibly match what I am to do," he said, either failing to register or ignoring the fact her father was a king. Then, nodding to the ground, "Sleep, then. We have much to do."

Obediently, Teegra made herself comfortable on the floor and rolled over to try and go to sleep. Sleep did not come easy; her mind was racing with thoughts of what would happen tomorrow when the sub-humans found her. She was certain, with this mercenary following close behind, that no harm would come to her.

How certain could she really be, though?

Once glance at his snoring form told her he was a huge brute of a man with strength enough to rival each one of the sub-humans tenfold. With his help, she would find her way home. She knew she would.


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

In the morning, Teegra awoke to find herself almost entirely recovered of her wound. The poultice had worked and the red area around the wound had lessened to an almost non-existent scab. The aching pain was gone entirely—thank the gods! Given the gravity of the journey that lay ahead of them, she was sure that pain was the last thing she needed right now anyhow.

After removing her dressings, she looked up and noticed she was alone in the cottage. The man must have snuck out sometime in the early hours of the morning. Standing, Teegra wiped the dirt off her arms and legs and did her best to look presentable. She would have given anything for a mirror at that moment so she could straighten her hair and not feel quite so self-conscious. Wandering among the brambles for days on end was not bound to improve her looks in the least bit. And if there was one sin to which she could confess, it was vanity.

Part of her wondered where her father was right now, whether her brother was already mounting a search for him. The forest around her was wild, untamed, and dangerous. Strange creatures made their homes here, which made it unsafe to explore. The thought of her brother and a small contingent of men entering the forest in pursuit of her made her more than a little nervous. If they knew what was good from them, they would go to Nekron directly and demand he turn her over to them.

Teegra was momentarily disrupted from her reverie by the sound of approaching footsteps. As stealthily as a panther, the well-muscled man materialized in the distance and then entered the open door of the cottage. He had slung a deer across his shoulders and had both arms almost lazily holding either end of it. As he duck sideways through the doorframe to sidle inside with his game, Teegra raised a cry of exuberance.

"You're back!"

"I left to find us food. You mustn't suppress your appetite. We've a lot to do today."

"I'm starved," she said as the man hefted the deer from his shoulder with a resounding thud. He crouched over it, swiping a knife from his boots, which he then used to gut the deer's innards. Teegra averted her eyes as he worked, slightly disgusted by the man's brutality.

"You must be a skilled hunter," Teegra said, her eyes still focused on the far wall. "Why, my brother Taro couldn't catch a jackrabbit if it curled up beside him for a nap!"

Although she couldn't be sure, she thought he might have been smiling at that comment. She wasn't exactly eager to look and confirm her suspicions, however.

"Make a fire," he ordered her, handing her a piece of flint and some steel from his satchel. "It will go quicker if you help."

"Of course," she said, kneeling as she put the flint and steel together and began to strike up a cookfire. In minutes, it was blazing. The man skewered small pieces of the meat and began toasting them over the fire. The chunks of meat turned brown and began to shrink. It crackled and hissed and let off an appetizing aroma. The smell was intoxicating.

"Eat," the man said, handing her one of the skewers. Teegra devoured it hungrily, knowing it might well be her last meal for a while. The meat was delicious and had a smoky, spiced flavor—not what she was expecting.

"Slow down," he said with a slight smile. "Enjoy it more."

"I'm sorry, it's just… this is the first proper meal I've had in a while," she explained, suddenly minding her manners. Then, deciding to change the subject, she added, "Where do you think we will find the sub-humans?"

In between mouthfuls of food, the man replied, "I followed their trail. They were less than two miles from here. They went west. That is where we will go."

"You're sure it's safe?"

"I will let no harm come to you," he assured her, wolfish teeth sinking into the venison with a satisfying hiss.

"You still haven't told me your name," she said at length.

"Why do you want to know my name?"

"I want to know who to thank."

An enigmatic smile crossed his lips once again.

"You seem to place a great deal of importance on names."

"Please, oblige me."

"I am called Darkwolf, though that is not my true name. It should suffice for now."

"Very well, Darkwolf. Thank you again for coming to my rescue."

"As you said," he said, tossing aside a bone and wiping the juice from his lips, "we have common interests."

"Yes, we do."

After they finished their meal and extinguished the fire, they were on their way again. They began to trek through the forest, following the large, gangly tracks left behind by the sub-humans. Their heavy footsteps killed the thick undergrowth in order to blaze a trail. Not long into the journey, Teegra's entire body was humid and itching, and she felt as though a thousand insects must have been crawling all over her. Perhaps if she had been wearing a less revealing outfit, she would have been more protected from the elements, but as it was, the purple bikini left almost nothing to the imagination. Darkwolf seemed never to notice just how much skin she exposed, thankfully.

By mid-day, they had almost caught up with the sub-humans. They knew this because of the sound of growling in the distance, which could only be one thing.

Darkwolf caught her by the shoulders and pulled her behind a rock as the creatures stopped to rest for a while. While they crouched beneath the bolder, his eyes smoldered at her.

"Now is your chance. Go to them and I will follow your trail to Icepeak."

Her heart was pounding in her chest at the thought of willingly submitting to the creatures. Her courage was beginning to fail her, and Darkwolf seemed to comprehend this just from looking at her.

"I will make sure you are safe," he insisted. "Now go…"

Steeling her courage, Teegra peered over the rock. There, just beyond, in the little clearing, were the beastly creatures. Drawing a deep breath, she emerged from her hiding spot and then took one step and then another and another into the sun's warm rays. She opened her mouth as though to call out to them, but her voice came out a hoarse whisper. Thankfully she didn't have to say a word. At the first sign of movement in the distance, Monga, the leader, raised a cry to the others, his club held high in the air. On his command, the sub-humans lumbered forward toward Teegra. She offered no resistance when they seized her by the wrists and pulled her forward into the clearing. Although the force sent her flying to her knees, she felt strangely comforted by the fact Darkwolf was near, watching her closely for even the slightest sign of mistreatment.

* * *

It was almost nightfall by the time they arrived at Icepeak. They had left the forest and crossed the frozen plain, a walk that seemed like it had taken days even though it could have been no more than a few hours. As she struggled to climb the snowy cliffs of sharp, jagged ice, her knees gave out and two arms came beneath her to lift her over one burly shoulder. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she was at least aware of her surroundings.

Frozen plains gave way to palatial blue ice corridors flanked on either side by a long line of alcoves. Her head throbbed and she thought she could taste blood in the back of her throat. Was that just her imagination? Her skin was so cold. Suddenly she wished she had a heavy coat made of tanned animal skins to warm her up.

The maze of disorienting ice corridors soon opened up into a magnificent central chamber with a single throne in the center of it. A long, slim woman with lustrous dark hair stood with her back turned toward Teegra and her arms crossed.

Monga stopped and dumped her on the floor unceremoniously. The ice was so cold it nearly burned her skin at the contact. Teegra pushed herself to her knees and then stood up as the woman turned around. She was possibly the most beautiful woman she had ever seen—with the exception of her mother, who had died when she was only a child. And yet it was a cold beauty, almost cruel. Her pale eyes were serious, watchful, her lips red and set in a perpetual smirk. The sharp, angular contours of her face were harshly feminine. The long, deep purple gown she was wearing put her ample cleavage on display. Teegra gazed at her with wide open eyes. The woman assessed her with a cold, professional eye. She noticed her eyes widen slightly at the sight of her many bruises and wounds, and her mussed hair.

"I told you not to harm her," she barked at the subhuman. The creature uttered something unintelligible in reply, but she silenced him with a flick of the wrist. "Never mind that. You brought her to me. And for that you shall be rewarded later. For now, leave us."

The creature did as commanded, leaving the two women alone together. Almost immediately, the dark-haired woman turned motherly, helping Teegra forward and brushing a hand through her hair.

"You poor dear," she said. "You must be so tired. So very tired."

Teegra wanted to raise an eyebrow, but instead she pretended to play into her hands. "I am."

"And look at you… you have the stink of the jungle on you. I am sorry I had to do that to you, but it was the only way."

"I'm not sure I understand…"

"I couldn't get you here any other way. Your father, King Jarol, would never have agreed to such a match."

"A match?" Her brow furrowed. "I don't…"

The woman took her hand warmly, smiling at her in a cold and cruel manner.

"My dear, you are to marry my son, the Ice Lord Nekron."

"Marriage!" The word escaped her mouth before she had the chance to process what the woman was saying. So this was Nekron's grand design all along.

"It is a great honor that I have chosen you for him," the woman insisted with annoyance.

"I… am flattered," Teegra lied, quickly regaining her composure. This seemed to please the other woman. "But please let me go home."

"This is your home now," the woman said, catching strands of her hair in one fist and inspecting them. "Tonight I will present you to my son. But first you must bathe and be made presentable. I will have my maids attend to you. Should you find yourself in need of anything, you may bring it to them."

Juliana raised a hand and, as if on cue, three equally slim and beautiful women surrounded Teegra, taking her by the arms and leading her away toward some unknown destination. Her eyes remained focused on the lone figure in the throne room even as she was carted away.

* * *

The water was mercifully hot—hot enough to wash away all the little aches and pains in her body, but not so hot as to be scalding. Teegra soaked pleasantly in the warm water and contemplated what she would say to Nekron when she finally met him. She had a great many things she _wanted_ to say, but whether she worked up the courage or not was another matter entirely.

One of the maids poured a pitcher of water over her head and began scrubbing the knots out of her hair. Another woman sponged away layers of grime with a cloth. Teegra willfully submitted to their ministrations because of how relaxing it made her feel. She knew she shouldn't get too comfortable, however. She was going to be leaving as soon as Darkwolf made his appearance. Whenever that would be.

In the middle of her bath, Juliana chose to make her appearance again. The maids seemed to have felt her approach even before they saw her. They immediately stopped what they were doing and trained their eyes upon the door where their queen stood, looking as regal as ever.

"Feeling better?" she queried the young princess.

"Immensely."

She nodded toward the two maids.

"Stand her up. I want to examine her."

Without any assistance, Teegra rose from the bath naked. Rivulets of water ran down her legs and trickled from her hair. Juliana took one arm and raised it to inspect her body. She wanted to be sure the stock was good before she presented her to Nekron. Satisfied with her search, she nodded to the maids.

"Rub her down with oils. I want her to glisten. And put jasmine in her hair. This is a special occasion."

The maids wordlessly bowed their heads as Juliana left. Their hands were all upon her at once, massaging her skin and hair with sweet-smelling oils. When they had finished, they dressed her in a pale white gown that complemented her dark hair nicely and then fastened a crystal around her throat. Teegra was used to such adornments back home at Firekeep. She'd almost forgotten how it felt to have nice things. It was nice to be reminded once again, to be treated like royalty.

When the maids had finished, they led her back into the throne room where Juliana was awaiting her. The look on her face spoke volumes as she took in Teegra's new gown.

"Wonderful," she said. "My son will be here any minute."

No sooner had she spoken the words then Teegra felt the presence of another approaching from behind. She spun about almost instantly to see a shadow slinking toward her. As the shadow came into focus, she laid eyes upon the Ice Lord for the first time. It was easy to see the family resemblance, in looking from Juliana to her son and back. Nekron had a wild mane of white hair that came to his shoulders, and pale eyes to match. His skin was so pale and blue it seemed almost translucent, as though she could glimpse right through him. Although tall and lithe, he had broad shoulders that were cloaked in a deep purple robe, and nothing but a loincloth on underneath. His chest lay bare to the cold.

Nekron ambled unhurriedly toward the throne and then seated himself, one boot raised on the armrest. He surveyed his mother with suspicion, looking first to her and then to Teegra and back again. Juliana approached and jabbed Teegra in the back so that she would bow. Though it pained her to do so, she dropped to her knees and bowed her head.

She could feel Nekron's eyes on her, confused by her presence there.

"Why have you brought me _this_?" he hissed, eyes narrowing at her.

Juliana picked up a handful of Teegra's hair in one hand and began stroking it as though to entice her son.

"This is your bride, my son. She will be mother to your sons."

Nekron looked, all at one, horrified and angered. Teegra could understand the feeling.

"How… _thoughtful_, Mother. I need no bride and no sons."

"But you need heirs!"

"I need nothing!" His voice boomed as he shot to his feet, strands of hair falling in his eyes.

The fear in Teegra's stomach turned to sick worry. Now was her chance. Perhaps she could broker some kind of peace between their people. Perhaps it was not too late. She liked to believe, however futile, that there was still hope of a peaceful resolution.

"Nekron?" she started. Immediately, both pairs of pale eyes were upon her. Hesitating, she rose to her feet and waited for him to signal her to continue. The signal came in a small, almost imperceptible nod of his head. She approached him upon his throne. "Nekron, you're a great power in the world. You have all that any man ever wants or needed. And yet you despair."

Her eyes could see right through him.

"For there is one thing you lack. One gift that only you can bestow between our people. Peace. This is the gift that heals the heart of the giver."

She unfurled her fingers, reaching out to him, the lace from her gown's sleeve fluttering softly at the motion. She could see Juliana scowling, but she didn't care.

"Nekron, I extend my hand in friendship. I offer peace between our people. Will you not take my hand? Will you not call me friend?"

For a long moment, he considered the hand she had extended toward him, his face an unreadable mask. And then the full sickening force of mockery overtook him. He saw what a fool she had made of herself and laughed. His laughter, low and menacing at first, soon grew to a boisterous roar. Once he had exhausted himself by laughing at her, his face sobered.

"Woman," he said in a biting tone, leaning forward, "I spit on peace. I spit on _you_!"

With one leg, he leaned forward and kicked her in the abdomen, sending her sprawling to the ground. Teegra's eyes widened in surprise and fear as she felt the pain coursing through her entire body.

"Next time you present me with one of your little sluts, Mother Dear, I'll squash you like a bug!" he growled with disgust, clenching an iron fist in Juliana's direction. Then, seating himself, he said with a sneer, "Get that garbage out of here."

"Take her back to her room until further notice," Juliana issued a command to Monga.

The sub-human lumbered forward and snatched her away from the throne room, away from Juliana, and away from Nekron. She was almost grateful to be back in her temporary chambers again. Even as the door flung shut, she let out a huge sigh of relief. She could have guessed Nekron would not want to offer peace to her people, but the fact he had not commanded her capture was a surprise to her. If anything, he seemed oblivious to his mother's plans.

This was good news. If anything, it meant he would be more than happy to be rid of her.

Teegra rushed to the only window in the room and stood up on her tiptoes to gaze out across the miles and miles of icy plains. A shiver ran involuntarily down her spine, and she was suddenly reminded of Nekron's harsh words. He had called her a slut when she was anything _but_. This place was cold and unwelcoming, and she wanted nothing more to do with it.

Where was Darkwolf? The longer he delayed, the dimmer her hope was growing. She dropped to her knees and began to pray to the gods he would appear soon.


End file.
